European your pants

Firstly for some news about me check this interview out
http://thetattooedheart.net/article.asp?id=37&art=106

Now onto the more important shit. People have been telling me that the only content that I put on this thing is about Mavie. So I say yeah I know, thats because he is pretty much ruling the world lately. The original idea for this stupid blog was meant to be a group effort between me and him but he's too retarded to figure how to use it. Plus we sort of are both contributing, he's out there being hilarious and I'm passing the news on to his fans. Yes he has fans, and much like Paris Hilton, nobody knows why. Mavie is basically Paris Hilton. Hopefully he'll get his own TV show where he goes around giving people shit with the offspring of an 80s pop star.




I got an email from him a few days ago which had the NET BAHDAH as the subject. I actually understand some of the Mavie dialect so I can translate that for you. It means "not bad." You kind of have to scream it a bit and drag the vowels out so that each syllable, becomes three or four syllables long.
Anyway here's what he had to report.

Okay I'm in Macedonia..... I'll try and be brief. The rest of
Croatia, Bosnia and Montenegro stories will have to wait...that
whole area is one of the best places I've ever been and I was sad
to leave. East was the mission... but Kosovo had just became a
republic and for Grandmas sake I didn't go. Only other option was
Albania...mmm. Maybe don't tell Grandma bout that one either. Getting in,
was not a problem. The guard asked me for ten bucks, I gave him 2,
no worries. I stopped at the first town which was sketchy but
amazing. I pulled over at a servo to reload my camera.
(I dont get this bit because I bought him a digital camera before he left... I wonder if he has been jamming rolls of film in it?)

An old dude covered in gold sits down next to me. Tells me he owns the whole
place. I decided not to get the camera out. Communicating was
difficult but I thought everything was relatively normal, him half
yelling Albanian and me smiling. Then he yanks a three inch thick
wad of American hundred dollar bills out of his pants and slams it
on the table...errr. I casually straddled my motor and got the hell outta
dodge. Later that day I met a family from Wales that insisted on
buying me lunch and a beer...okay. Then when they were leaving this
woman slips me a wad of Lekes and runs off. What is it with wads
of cash??!! Turns out it was enough for a room by the beach and a
hot shower. Neh camping for me. The next morning I rode through the
mountains..the wild west of Europe. Needed fuel. Servos
everywhere. The ones that weren't burnt down or abandon wouldn't
take plastic...and of course, I had no cash on me. My only hope was
to head for Macedonia. That part of the country is
completely lawless and I sure as hell wasn't up for camping in it.
I get to the border and the Macedonians want 50 Euros for bike
insurance and didn't take plastic either. Greece was 300 km's
further south and it was getting late. A huge fight broke out
between the guy that was trying to help me and a pissed off
Albanian. It got physical and all the guards dragged the dude into
a room. I couldn't do anything because the guy had my passport. Along
comes two backpackers from Holland. I explain my situation. They lend me 50 Euros cash. I gave them my camera till they got their
money back. I got through the border and followed them in a taxi
15km to the first town. Half way there I suddenly realized my
wallet was missing. I flagged em down. They told me to go back and
they'll meet me in town. I gun it back to the border. My wallet is
on the ground about to be run over by a truck. I grab it. It has
another mans foot print on it. I'm in shock. I fly back to town to
meet the Holland backpackers. I find them. I go to a cash machine
give em their dough and buy them a beer. They were on there way to
Iran to try and get out of an arranged marriage that one of them
was involved in...anyway that night I camp out on a lake. Next day
I swim and visit some ruins. I needed to get my 50 Euros worth. So
I completely ignore the approaching storm and fire up the biggest
mountain I can find in search of a bear. Half way up I'm sitting in
a bar/shop waiting for the rain thunder and lightening to stop. Along comes Nikola. 69yr old man from Perth?? He gave me a place to crash and sent me up a
muddy track to the tallest peak in the country. The bike almost
made it. I gave it a rest and hiked the last section on foot.
Absolutely amazing....but no bear. Got lost coming down and it took
me for ever to find my bike. I readjusted my back brake and skidded
my way down through ice, mud and rocks. Spent the night on Nikola's
farm, gold. So this morning I'm up and out by 7am. Quick stop to
fill up and off to Greece. But wait...no credit card!! and you
guessed it, no cash!!! Oh shit! Think....the last place I used it
was in that cash machine two days ago...80km's through the
mountains. ARGH!!! I give the servo attended my camera and head
back through the mountains, which is a pretty sweet ride. I get to
the bank and they tell me they have it, but they need a fax from
ANZ in Oz..I phone them..they won't do it and want to cancel the
card...I hang up on them and start begging...the women tells me to
come back in 90 mins and she'll try and pull some strings. Strings
got pulled and I get my card back....I love Eastern Europe... I'm
off to Greece

Pure Mavie Gold

He doesn't make that much contact but when he does he makes it count.
Check out the most recent one below.... (His definition of "perfect shelter"
probably wont make it into the next version of Websters dictionary)

The moment I left Budapest I was caught out in a storm. Great way
to start any trip. No rain gear and no tent...mmm. Well thought
out. Dodging rain drops I rode to Lake Balaton. On arrival I met
three French Medical Students and a Vet that let me sleep in their
broken down Volkswagon Van. Sweet. The rain stopped long enough for
a sun down swim and a quick beer run on the ol' two stroke. Everyone
was stoked. The next day I rode through the Hungarian Countryside.
Crossed the Croatian border with sketchy paperwork for the moto and
no speak Hungarian... worked a treat. Stoked!!! Then a bee flew
into my helmet and bit me on the side of the face. A lot of the
houses in the country have giant bomb sized holes in them from the
recent trouble times. I stopped to take photos and met some
children that taught me my first Croatian words. That night I
camped out on the Bank of a river in a small town called Sisak. It
looked like rain again...so I found an upturned dingy on
stilts...perfect shelter. The next morning I woke up and couldnt
open my left eye. My face had swollen up from the bee sting and I
looked like the elephant man. Time to put some miles on. That day I
rode through the mountains to the coast on amazing roads with
ridiculous views. Camped out on a beach on the isle of Krk. Tourist
day...drank coffee bought a snorkel mask, bla bla.. Caught a ferry
to Cres. Ate seafood. Met a skate boarder? Oscar. Good kid. Told me
about a hidden Paradise on the Island. Camped out on a hillside,
sunset view you get the picture...Mission, to find a beach called
Meli. Took a wrong turn. Started cutting through farms, stone walls
and wooden gates...so much fun. Found the right track which led to
Plat..from there a half an hour hike to a secluded sandy beach,
snorkeling, fish... argh... Hiked back to Plat, which was just two
houses. Met a couple of kids, learnt more Croatian. Met a women who
was taking care of these kids, who were apparently delinquents. She
let them hang out at her place, to keep them off the street. They
fixed and drove old beat up cars and scooters around, farm style.
She told me that she went to Australia once and thought that life
there was so easy that it made people stupid... she did stay in
Dandenong for two months. From her home you could see the mountains
across the Sea. She said she watched over the water the Yugoslavian
war go down from the safety of her front porch. Gnarly. Later that
day I borrowed a screw driver from a machanic and asked him where I
should go next. He told me to cross the little bridge that joined
the two Islands Cres and Losinj then turn right. So I did. It was a
rocky dirt road. I followed it half way up a mountain to a closed
gate.. it wasnt locked... beyond the gate the track got steep and
rough as hell. Best off road fun yet. At the top was a small cabin
with stairs leading to the roof with a flag flying high. Inside,
there was an old man who fed me dinner, sold me beer and let me
sleep on the roof for free. The views were absurd. The following
morning the old man gave me coffee and told me that I had to hike
even further up the Mountain where I would find a small church and
360 panoramic heaven. He wouldnt feed me breakfast until I
returned...err OK. Later that afternoon I caught a 6 and a half
hour ferry ride back to the mainland, via four other islands.
Arrived in the city of Zadar at 11pm. Rode out of town, pulled
over, asked some teenagers where I should camp. They took me to
their parents front yard. Then took off to get drunk."we love pivo!"
Mum woke me up in the morning and was happy when I told her I
was leaving. I rode inland to a National Park. Snuck in and swam
underneath waterfalls. Rain was creeping in again so left in hurry.
Forgot to flick my side stand up. Ditched the bike on the first
left hand bend doin about 80 clicks. Hit a few bolders nearly got
bucked off but some how bounced back onto the tarmac and kept
goin....stopped at the first petrol station and checked my dacks.
Pants were clean but the MZ was pissing fuel all over the ground.
Stuck float bowl, nothin major. Then a Serbian man rolled in on old
full faring BMW. He donned his rain gear and told me about a
motorcycle party, with free camping, then took off. The rain
cleared a bit and I went in search of Croatian Stergers....found
nothing. Spoke to a couple riding an old GS. Apparently my Serbian
is terrible, the 3 day party had just finished. The bloke was
wearing a leather vest with Hollister MC Patches. He invited me to
their Club House in Spilt. I woke up there this morning, alone...
with the key to the Shed in my pocket. Last memory was listening to
Maiden, drinking and being told to leave the key under the second
brick...
Yep...still a little hung over.....Mavie